The Sickly and the Meathead
by OrnamentofRhyme
Summary: Observing the courtship of Todd and Neil is helping Spaz come to terms with the feelings he has for his roommate. (Spaz/Hopkins)


_Important Note: In this story, (and all of my DPS stories) Spaz is referred to as Gilbert Braun, and Hopkins is called Edwin Hopkins._

* * *

He lay on his bed, eyes wide open as the playful murmur of Todd and Neil's conversation rolled on, interrupted by large swaths of silence. Or rather, gaps between spoken words. True silence could not be obtained with the two boys devolving into kisses as they were; heavy, fevered kisses.

This was a common occurrence these days. For the longest time he didn't know what the sounds meant, but after coming across a scene of Neil backing Todd up against one of the lonely brick walls in the commons, grinning at him with hearts in his eyes, dots started to connect for Gilbert.

Rather than being repulsed by their connection, he found himself jealous of it. To have someone so close in body and mind was a desire instilled in him by books and films and music, though it seemed that, for him, they would only ever be achievable in dreams. After all, he was no dashing young man with strong muscles and wits. He was Spaz the Sickly, riddled with health problems, and more familiar with his pocket handkerchief than with anyone on earth.

Perhaps he was not jealous because of Neil and Todd's romance on its own, but because their story—one of roommates ensnared by a deep and persistent love—was so similar to what he would have for himself.

The closeness of roommates was not inherently romantic, but in the case of Todd and Neil, and Gilbert himself, it had become that way. For Gilbert seemed to have followed their example and become infatuated with his own roommate.

If it was his best friend Norman, (known as Stick to the rest of the boys,) this may not have been as serious an issue, but his roommate was not Norm. It was Edwin Hopkins.

Edwin was his guardian angel disguised as a meathead.

As long as Edwin had been at Welton—going on two years now, Gilbert thought—they shared living quarters, fostering routines and rapport. Edwin took the left bed, Gil got the right. Edwin turned off the last light before bed, and Gil ensured he didn't sleep through the breakfast bell. Edwin asked whether he had taken his medications, and Gil, face hot, stuttered out his _"Yes, thank you."_

Somehow, this bled into their social lives.

Gilbert was always the butt of the joke, ever since he was a child. It was easy for others to make fun of him; all they had to do was look at him and select one of many traits to mock—his perpetually runny nose, his large glasses, his scrawny, ailing body. But then Edwin came along and started shooting frigid, stony glares at those who teased too harshly. He swept up paper balls others threw at Gil in class and lobbed them back at the assailants with what Gilbert imagined was the force of an asteroid hitting the planet. Edwin even hovered nearby during soccer and other sports, not that he seemed to realize it.

Somewhere along the line, Gilbert put two and two together and discovered the difference between a heart pounding due to illness, and a heart pounding because someone special set a new pace. However, although this revelation impacted his opinion of Edwin greatly, the same could not be said for the other boy. He was blissfully ignorant of Gil's feelings.

He snapped out of his musings when the door opened and Edwin strolled in, fresh from the showers, shirtless and with a white towel draped over his neck.

He shot a curious look at Gilbert as he stopped to rifle through his messy cupboard for his night shirt.

"You alright?" he asked.

Gilbert sat up some. "Yes. Why?"

Edwin discarded the towel so he could tug on a shirt. "Your face is red."

"Oh."

Edwin crossed to stand at his bedside, brow raised. "Oh?"

Faintly, a bed spring creaking could be heard through the wall, drawing Edwin's attention. The soft sounds of kisses and murmurs filtered in. He rolled his eyes.

Stretching over Gilbert, Edwin pounded on the wall with the side of his fist. "Tone it down! There's virgins here!"

 _"Oh my god,"_ Todd could be heard saying, mortified.

Neil laughed. _"Don't worry about Hopkins. He's just jealous."_

Edwin snorted. "C'mon, Gil." Then, in one smooth movement, he hauled Gilbert over his shoulder. Before he could do more than yelp, Gilbert was flopped down again, though this time, he was across the room on Edwin's bed. It smelled strongly of him. He would have liked to roll over and bury his nose in the sheets, to breathe in the spiced scent.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked.

"Gotta protect your innocent ears," Edwin explained. "You can have my bed tonight."

"No, no! It's okay, Edwin, really."

This gave Edwin pause. "It doesn't make you sick, hearing that stuff?"

Gilbert gawked. He had never lied to Edwin before, and he didn't want to start now. After a minute of floundering for an answer, he finally stammered, "I—I think I've already got enough sickness in my life."

Edwin's face was unreadable as he asked, "Are you like that?"

"Do I like boys?" When Edwin nodded, he swallowed hard. "I—maybe. One of them."

The bed dipped as Edwin sat beside him. He examined Gilbert's face for an agonizing length of time.

Finally, he spoke. "If I asked you who, would you tell me?"

Even if he sent out a search party for it, Gil didn't think he could find his voice. His heart thumped in some blend of fear and anticipation, and if he was red before, he couldn't imagine how he looked now.

For courage, he called to mind the way Todd and Neil looked at each other. Instead of telling, he reached out, curling his chronically cold fingers over Edwin's brawny hand.

To his surprise, Edwin placed his other hand atop their joined ones, leaving Gilbert's between two callused layers of warmth. All of his focus narrowed in on this. Nothing would please him more than staying like that forever.

Or at least until Edwin kissed him, which happened next.

Edwin leaned down, a broad shadow blocking out the lamp light over Gilbert, and pressed their closed lips together, simple but sincere. He placed two more kisses there, somehow soft and solid, before he stood.

"You taken your medicine yet?"

Gil nodded.

"Gimme your glasses."

Only Edwin had gained so much of his trust that Gil would pass over his spectacles without hesitation. The stockier boy set them aside, being thoughtful enough to tell Gil exactly where on the windowsill he had placed them.

"Alright, scoot," Edwin said next.

Dazed, Gilbert could only manage a, "Huh?"

Huffing, Edwin lifted him again, but just enough to move him closer to the wall.

"I don't wanna hear their shit all night," he said under his breath as he climbed into the bed. Retrieving his blankets from their pool at the foot of his bed, he pulled them up over himself and Gilbert. "I don't know how you can stand it."

Gilbert froze up, not entirely sure what was happening. But Edwin just shifted onto his side and wrapped an arm around Gilbert.

"Night, Gil."

Minutes ticked by as he scoured the pure, blank slate which his mind had become, looking for a coherent thought but finding none. Finally, one thought formed, and he blindly snatched it up like a lifeline.

"You left the lamp on," he said.

Edwin just groaned into his hair, hold tightening.

* * *

 _Much love to bananaquit, to whom this story is dedicated. If we work together, we can make this ship set sail!_

 _Edited 9-27-18 because it hurts to sleep with glasses on._


End file.
